My eyes widened with curiosity as I looked at him. “What kind of proposition?”
Leaning in slightly, his gaze never leaving mine, he said, “Stay here with me.” My heart pounded in my chest. “Let me offer you the sanctuary of my home while you adjust, and in turn, you can share more of your life with me.”
“That hardly seems like a fair trade,” I stammered, torn between the allure of the offer and the fear of becoming a burden. “My life is so uninteresting, and I have nothing to share that would measure against what it would cost for me to stay here with you.”
“As you said before, I live here in solitude. Your presence will be more than welcome. Take your time to decide if you must,” Draven reassured me, his gaze gentle.
I was torn, and emotions coursed through me. “I … I am unsure. I have nowhere else to go,” I confessed in a hushed tone.
“Stay as long as you need,” Draven responded, his eyes delving into the depths of my soul. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dark blue leather notebook and offered it to me. “I noticed your previous one had become soaked from the river. I thought a replacement might be appreciated.”
I was taken aback by his gesture, and a wave of gratitude washed over me. “Thank you,” I finally managed to say. “And thank you for supper.”
His lips curved into a soft smile, a gentle reassurance in his gaze. “We shall dine again tomorrow,” he declared. “However, I must depart early in the morning and will be returning in the evening. Make yourself at home in the meantime and ask Imalda for anything you need.”
The weight of exhaustion began to settle on me. My worries lingered heavily on my mind, and a soft yawn involuntarily escaped my lips. “Forgive me,” I apologized.
“No need to apologize. In fact, I should be the one apologizing. You must be utterly exhausted. Allow me to escort you back to your room.”
I followed Draven through the hallways, the flickering candelabra casting dancing shadows along the walls. Upon reaching my room, Draven turned, his eyes intense as he stared down at me. We stood in silence for a moment, and I was tempted to reach my hand out and run it through the inky black curtain of his hair.
“Good night, Rosalia.” My name on his lips left me breathless. I was expecting him to say more as I let out a breath, but he turned and walked down the dimly lit hallway until he vanished at the end into his room.
My room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight streaming through my open window. I approached the old desk in the corner of the room, and I took out the new journal. I opened it, revealing its pristine pages. Running my hands over the parchment and seeing its endless potential, I felt momentarily content. This gift touched me.
I dipped my pen into the inkwell and began writing. Without much thought, the words flew from me to my dearest friend.
Vail,
I long for your presence more than I can say. I pray you have not gone to my home; it would bring you nothing but sorrow.
It grieves me to write these words, for they make my loss feel all the more real. My mother is gone, taken from me by the hands of a Blood Hunter. I scarcely escaped with my own life, forced to throw myself into the river in a desperate bid to survive.
Since then, I have been granted shelter and care by a kind gentleman. For now, I am safe, though I cannot say when I shallreturn. I feel almost selfish admitting that I am, at present, comfortable, for the weight of my mother’s absence bears down on me with every breath.
I hope you are well. With all my love,
Rosalia
The pages absorbed my emotions, each sentence becoming a vessel for a piece of my soul. A small but significant step toward my healing as the words flowed from me.
My gaze lifted from the page, drawn by the large moon in the sky. In that tranquil moment, a flutter of movement caught my eye. A bat, gracefully dancing along the canvas of the night.
THIRTEEN
January 2, 2010
As I threw my suitcase onto the bed, the taste of the bar owner’s blood still lingered in my mouth. Frustration roared through me like a relentless storm, overwhelming me with visions of his body lying on the shower floor. I pushed those images away, focusing instead on the urgent need to pack and leave town before Vail discovered I was gone.
I couldn’t bear to stay here any longer; the thought of remaining in this place made my skin crawl. What I needed was to hit the road again and drive. The open road had a way of clearing my mind.
Yanking open the bedroom door, my suitcase in my other hand, I was met with Vail leaning casually against the wall, eyeing me with curiosity. “Going somewhere?” Her questions hung in the air, but I pressed forward. Stopping meant she would convince me to stay.
“Don’t do this, Vail. I don’t belong here.”
“What are you talking about, Rosie? What happened? Was it the Slayers? Is that why you’re making a run for it? You’re so selfish, you promised you’d help me!” Vail’s concern was evident in her voice.
I continued down the hall. “No, it’s not about them.”
